


The road to heaven

by Nerd_writer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterlife, Divorce, I swear, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, but theres a happy ending, seriously this gets really dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_writer/pseuds/Nerd_writer
Summary: Dean Winchester struggled his whole life with depression. It gets to be too much and he takes the easy way out, but reunites with his husband in heaven. (There are some dark elements here, but I promise there is a happy ending)





	The road to heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I'm moving everything over from my other account, so if you've read this before, it's the same story, just published under this one. That being said, here's a few reminders. The suicide is in the 27 years old section and the cutting is in the 19 one. Feel free to skip those. Now, I've based this story off some of my own experiences. Not the divorce, I never had a dad to begin with, but I've self-harmed and I've attempted suicide twice. I'm struggling to get better, but I thought I'd write this so others know that they're not alone. If you're going through this, message me. I'll listen to everything with a nonjudgmental ear. You're not alone, this is help out there.   
> "Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light"  
> -Dumbledore

They never suspected. Never wondered why his smiles were a touch too bright or why his eyes looked sad all the time.

Never gave a thought to the purchase of a handgun, they assumed he just wanted protection. Never asked questions like why he wore long sleeves in summer, that was just him. He's always done that.

For Dean Winchester, it went back to the beginning. Why it's always been like this.

**4 years old-**

He didn't understand a lot of things.

He didn't know why he had to take baths or why he couldn't have a cookie before dinner. He only knew simple things like he had to eat everything, including those nasty veggies, before he got the cookie. But when his little brother came, he knew something was wrong.

He didn't understand at first. He just knew that Daddy and Mommy yelled a lot and sometimes Mommy would cry. He would hear Daddy trying to say sorry but Mommy would call him a bad name and Daddy would sleep on the couch.

During the times they yell, Dean would go into the nursery and climb into the crib. He knew to be careful with Sammy, so he would gently curl up next to him and lay a hand on Sammy’s belly. Sammy usually sniffed a few times, but he never cried, unlike when he needed something.

One time Mary found him in the crib, sleeping next to baby Sammy. She called John and they set aside their anger to smile at their sons sleeping peacefully together.

But then there came a time where Mommy threw something at Daddy. Dean watched with wide eyes as Daddy yelled and grabbed Mommy's wrist. Dean saw tears in Mommy's eyes so he ran up and kicked Daddy in the leg. Both of them stopped and Mommy picked Dean up and held him close.

That was the start of Dean's decline.

**7 years old-**

They tried. They really did. John and Mary went to therapy together and sometimes they brought the boys too.

Sam was too young to say much, but Dean answered as best as he could.

No, he didn't like when Mom and Dad hit each other.

Yes, he watched over Sam while they were at work.

Yes, he was aware that was what the babysitter was for.

No, he didn't mean to hurt the babysitter when she made Sam cry by refusing cookies.

Yes, he did hit her. No, he's always liked the babysitter. He hit her because that's what Mom and Dad do when they're unhappy.

Mary and John both cried a bit over that last answer. But at least the fighting died down. Or rather...they just fought when Dean was asleep.

**12 years old-**

Dean couldn't believe his ears. Dad wouldn't do this. He wouldn't. He couldn't….

“John. Tell me it's not true. Tell me she's lying!” Mary pleaded, her eyes wet and shiny. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, both quiet from behind the couch where they were hiding.

“Mary…”

“How could you? Do you know how happy I felt when she showed me the test? I was so happy for her, only to find out my husband is the father!” Mary held back a sob.

“I'm sorry. It was one time, I was drunk, and she didn't even mean anything to me! I was thinking of you the whole time,” John said. “I'm not even sure I'm the father.”

“John. I saw the DNA test.”

Silence. Dean and Sam held their breath.

“I want you out of this house. Pack your stuff and get out,” Mary said.

“Mary-”

“Get out! Go live with Amy! Some best friend she is!” Mary picked up a figurine and held it threateningly. John sighed and walked out. Then came the sobs.

Mary and Sam both cried, though Sam was silent about it. Dean just held him, wondering when the pain was gonna stop.

**14 years old-**

The pain never stopped. Not long after Mary kicked John out, she fell sick. She ended up dying shortly after Sam's tenth birthday.

Dean now watched as the casket was lowered into the ground. His dad was there, standing with his new wife and son. They married a month after the divorce was finalized. Dean and Sam hated Amy and Adam.

Bobby Singer, a mutual friend, stood with the two boys as their new guardian. Amy didn't want anything to do with Mary's sons, so she refused to allow them in her home. Mary knew that so she had written that Bobby was to take them.

Sam bawled like a baby, but Dean just held him and tried to cheer him up with visions of Mary walking around heaven with glorious white wings spreading from her body.

“I don't want her in heaven! I want her here!” Sam yelled, drawing sympathetic looks.

“Life's not fair,” Dean said, repeating what John had always said.

“But why does it have to be _this_ unfair?”

Dean didn't have an answer for Sam.

**17 years old-**

Dean walked out of the juvie center with his head down low. The past three years have been tough on the boys, but where Sam threw himself into school, Dean went the opposite path. He had to give Bobby credit though. He was dealing with two troubled teen boys and doing his best.

It was Bobby who let him learn life the hard way. With all the car thefts and drugs and alcohol, Dean was becoming a wild guy. Bobby let him sit in jail each time he was arrested and never bailed him out. At first, Dean thought it was because Bobby didn't care.

Now he knew. He was teaching him. The last stunt was being found passed out in an abandoned house. He was charged with trespassing and being under the influence. He had been in juvie for a year. A year of hell while he was recovering from withdrawal and feeling ashamed. Especially when Sam visited him and cried. That was what made him clean up his act.

And now he was free.

He was silent on the way home, his mind whirling and twisting with no end in sight. Sam chatted away on everything Dean missed, not caring that his brother wasn't answering. He was quiet when they arrived, heading up to his room. Bobby, understanding, kept Sam downstairs and let Dean have a moment.

His room hadn't changed much. Same posters, same bed, same walls. Dean stood in the middle, breathing starting to get heavy. His fists curled and he swung out, a growl ripping through his throat. His lamp shattered against the wall. His posters were ripped down, his few books thrown.

Suddenly he stopped and sat on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees. He still didn't cry. He may have been free, but his mind was still hurting.

He may have been free, but now he was trapped in his own mind.

**19 years old-**

The first time was a beautiful release.

It was a perfect calming of his mind. It was _glorious_.

Dean smiled at the line of red that stretched across his forearm. His trusty pocketknife was in his hand. Ever since he got out of juvie, he's been finding ways to deal with the pain in his mind. He threw himself into his job at Bobby's auto shop and lost himself in willing partners. He had half expected Bobby to put up a fit when Dean brought home a guy, but he didn't blink twice. Just said to keep it down and went back to helping Sam with homework.

But John…. John, who Dean and Sam only saw on birthdays, raised hell.

He ranted and vented for so long, Dean had to break to go to the bathroom. But the final straw was when Dean's boyfriend at the time kissed him goodbye. John saw red and punched Dean right in the face. Bobby immediately threw him out and took Dean to the doctor. His boyfriend broke up with him after that. Said Dean was too much drama. Dean wallowed for a month afterward.

Then he met Benny. Benny Lafitte came into Bobby's shop with a busted motorcycle. Dean fixed it and the two became best friends. Neither ever liked the other romantically, but they were practically brothers. But even Benny couldn't help Dean with the pain. Benny didn't even know about it. Dean never let him see him without a shirt.

No one knew.

Dean cut himself everyday. Sometimes multiple times a day. Each time was better than the last and Dean smiled at the sharp pain. It was preferable against the mental pain. Every time he saw red blossom up from his tan skin, a dark piece of his mind fell silent. And when it would scream again, Dean just retreated to his room and take out his knife.

He felt like he was in control now.

**21 years old-**

How much more could he take? How much more did life think he needed? Was there some sick God up there that thought 'you know what? Dean Singer needed more grief in his life'?

Beside him, Sam sobbed openly as another casket was lowered. He was only 17 and now Dean was the only one left.

No one suspected Bobby was sick. The boys had assumed he was just watching his health because he was getting older. But then he had a heart attack and passed away in his sleep. Tomorrow, Dean and Sam would go and do the legal nonsense to make Dean Sam's guardian. Bobby left Dean his house and shop so there was virtually nothing stopping them.

“My condolences,” a deep voice said from behind them. Dean and Sam turned to see a guy standing there. He had messy black hair and bright blue eyes.

“Who are you?” Sam asked, sniffling.

“Castiel. I work for John Winchester as a nanny to his daughter. He ordered me to be here in his place,” Castiel said.

“Well you don't have to be,” Dean said gruffly. “John disowned us.”

“I'm aware. However, he wished to express his sorrow for his friend. I am merely the messenger,” Castiel said.

“Thanks.” And then Sam turned around. Castiel didn't seem upset, only understanding.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean said. Castiel inclined his head and walked away. Benny came over shortly after, asking who that was. As Dean answered, his eyes stayed on Castiel. He was curious about this nanny that willingly came to a funeral of somebody he didn't know simply because he was ordered to.

If only it were that easy for Dean.

**24 years old-**

Dean gritted his teeth and laid a hand on the white cast that covered Castiel’s leg. The two had been dating for two years before they decided to take it to the next step. They had married in March.

It was now November and Dean was left staring down at the broken body of his husband. Castiel had been driving home from his new job as a professor when he had been rammed by a semi truck whose driver had been tired and dozing. Dean had been called and he had rushed here right away, but it was no use. Castiel was in a coma and didn't notice anything.

“Mr. Singer?” The doctor spoke up behind him. Dean turned around.

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry to be the one bearing bad news. Your husband suffered extreme trauma to the brain and his vital organs. The chances of him waking are minimal and, if he does wake, it's more likely he will be brain dead.”

Dean closed his eyes. He had been afraid of that. “There's no hope?” he asked, his voice wavering.

“There's always a slight hope, but realistically? No, there's no chance of him escaping this without major injury. I'm sorry.”

“What are my options?” Dean asked, finally opening his eyes. The older doctor seemed sincerely sorrowful and that almost made Dean break down right there. But he still didn't cry.

“You could leave him on life support. It's expensive and, like I said, small chance of waking. But if you believe in that hope, we'll give you a year before we reconvene. Or you could pull it now after your goodbyes and let him go in peace.”

Dean's breath hitched. “I don't want him to suffer. Let me just have a week and then I'll sign the papers.”

The doctor nodded and left, leaving Dean to slump in a chair. He took out his phone and began the painful process of informing people.

**26 years old-**

He thought he would get better.

He thought, once he grieved, he would move on, like he did his mother and Bobby.

But he didn't.

Each day that went by, something reminded Dean of Castiel. And each time he had to hold back tears.

It was too much.

Cutting wasn't helping and drinking wasn't helping. Sam, Benny, and all of Sam's friends were worried about Dean. Sam said he wasn't moving on, Benny said he wasn't getting better. Even John, who attended Castiel's funeral despite everything, said he was sorry and worried for Dean.

But it was okay.

Dean had a plan. He was going to free himself from pain and see his husband again. So he faked it. And people bought it. Sam stopped hovering, Benny stopped questioning, John stopped avoiding. They all believed he was better. They believed it so well, they never suspected anything was wrong when he bought a handgun.

They should have.

He waited until March of next year.

**27 years old-**

He finally cried.

After all those years of never crying, Dean let himself sob as he loaded the gun.

He let himself weep as he cocked it.

He let himself cry as he pulled the trigger.

Dean Winchester died on the day he married Castiel.

**Dean's funeral-**

“How could this happen?”

“He was getting better!”

“He was healing.”

Sam Winchester held his hands up for silence. As everybody quieted down, he locked eyes with his father, who was openly crying silently.

“My brother's troubles started when he was really young. He's always been there for me, even when he was hurting himself. We've lost our mom, our adopted dad, and he lost a husband. He's been very depressed since his teens and we should've pressed for him to be on meds or therapy or something. We didn't. I'm not saying this is our fault, I'm just saying that we chose to ignore it. He wasn't getting better. Looking back now, he never got better. He faked it.”

Sam looked at the picture of Dean, all smiles and sad eyes.

“Look at this. He always smiled, but did we see the pain in his eyes? No. We either chose not to see it, or he convinced us too good. But it's too late now and no one needs to blame themselves. We lost a good man, I lost a brother, my dad lost a son. But instead of focusing on his pain and dragging yourself down into pain as well, we need to focus on the good things.”

He took a breath to steady himself.

“When my mom died, I was only ten. But I still remember what Dean said. He said, 'Sammy, mom's in heaven now. Walking around with these huge white wings. And she's no longer in pain.’ So is Dean. He's walking with Mom now. He's up there with Bobby and he's got his Castiel back. And that's something worth remembering.”

Sam never heard the applause. He was looking at Dean's body in the open casket. He stepped down and took off his necklace, a small golden mask that Dean bought him for a birthday so long ago. He laid the trinket down and closed Dean's hands around it. He had other things to remember him by, he could give Dean this one thing.

“I love you, brother.”

**Afterlife-**

Dean woke up on softness. Like he was floating. He opened his eyes and saw a meadow with a single door. Just a door standing in the middle of the grass with nothing holding it up.

“Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you finally.”

Dean sat up and looked around. He saw a normal looking guy standing there with curly hair and pale skin. He looked like he was a hermit, but clean.

“Where am I?” Dean asked. He stood up and looked down. He was wearing a pure white robe that seemed to shine slightly. His scars were gone and he was wearing the necklace he gave Sam.

“Heaven. To put it bluntly.” The guy grinned. “I'm Chuck. But you might know me as God.”

“Whoa. But I thought suicides sent you to hell.”

“Nope. You were already in so much pain, why would I add to that? Come on, there's people who would like to see you,” God said, nodding towards the door.

Dean walked over and opened it, peering inside. It looked like a normal house. As he walked in, he was slammed into.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Mary said, tearing up as she pulled back and cupped Dean's cheek.

“Mom,” Dean breathed.

“And Bobby. And someone here who says he's your husband,” Mary said, smiling. Dean's eyes grew wide and he quickly let go of Mary and called out for Castiel.

“I see how it is, I don't even get a hello,” Bobby jokingly said, coming out of the kitchen. But then Castiel appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Dean!”

The two ran and embraced each other, sobbing with glee as they were finally reunited.

Dean's mind was finally clear of pain and he couldn't be happier.


End file.
